


Unexpected

by nekostyx



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bokuto Kuroo and Oikawa are all friends, Bottom Akaashi Keiji, Canon Compliant, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, MSBY Jackals, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom, Power Bottom Akaashi Keiji, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Pro Volleyball Player Hinata Shouyou, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sexual Tension, Writer Akaashi Keiji, akaashi works at a lowkey hooters, bokuto is so screwed LMAO, implied Miya/Bokuto, just a guilt fanfic, lap dance, pretty boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26455093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekostyx/pseuds/nekostyx
Summary: Sometimes the greatest love stories happen to begin with fairytales and princes and evil dragons.For Bokuto Koutarou, it begins in crowded frat house that smells like beer, gym socks, and desperate college students.Oh yeah, and a lap dance from a pretty green-eyed boy.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 23
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [hikari (sincerelysamedt)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysamedt/pseuds/hikari). Log in to view. 



> hi guys I read this awesome fanfic linked above and then I rly wanted a sequel to it so I decided to just write a series based off of it!! Anyways lmk what u think!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What i do instead of studying for my spanish exam and doing ochem hw... i stg bokuaka will be the death of me one day jskjsksjsk
> 
> Anyways, please let me know your thoughts below!! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Thank you : ))

Bokuto doesn’t see the pretty raven-head for a month after that. 

Sure, it’s probably due to the fact that Bokuto’s life alternates between class, sleeping, and games, but all he’s asking for is one tiny, small peek at Akaashi- for closure’s sake, and then he will completely forget about him and his sea green eyes and low, timber voice that keeps him awake at night. However, in the meantime, he takes to complaining to Oikawa and Kuroo. 

“Bokuto,” Oikawa finally snaps, pulling at his hair on frustration as he releases a guttural groan. “For the love of god, please _, please_ just call the man. If I have to hear about how good Akaashi’s thighs feel one more time, I will combust.”

“Not possible,” Kuroo pipes in and raises his head from the thick physical chemistry textbook he was reading. “The temperature for human combustion is around 480 degrees of Fahrenheit. There’s actually three steps in the process: self-heating, thermal runway, and autoignition. You actually can’t even produce enough standard enthalpy change for the first step alone. ”   
  
Bokuto and Oikawa blink at him before Bokuto’s asking him. “Can I spontaneously combust then if Akaashi Keiji looks at me?” 

Bokuto ducks as Kuroo throws a book at him, and Oikawa is groaning again, something along the lines of “God, Koutarou. You are such a bottom for him.” 

_Whatever he wants,_ Bokuto thinks in his head, and sure, maybe he’s never bottomed before, but if Akaashi Keiji wanted him too, he would be on all fours in a heartbeat. 

“It’s not my fault,” he protests. Bokuto shoves his knee pads in the duffel bag, and tugs his head through a white tee, the last name Bokuto stitched into the back in light blue. “Okay, gotta go. The Jackals want me to practice with their setter.” 

Oikawa nods in understanding. His new team would be located in Brazil, and the thought of Oikawa leaving always ruins Bokuto’s day. “What time will you be back?” 

He racks his head, muttering out. “Uh, maybe around midnight? It might be later though.” 

“We’ll save food for you.” Kuroo offers, shooting finger guns as Bokuto steps out the door. “Kenma started working at this new bar, and they have awesome fries.” 

Bokuto shouts out a thanks before slamming the door behind him. He’s already running late, not anything unexpected, but still, the ace would like to leave a good impression. The station is a ten minute walk from the university, seven if Bokuto jogs, four if he sprints. 

He gets there in three. 

Practice goes amazingly well. Bokuto meets the team, most of the starting lineup his old friends from high school - Hinata, Tsumutsumu, Sakusa- and playing with them on the court feels natural and right. They work together like a well-oiled machine: Miya's perfect tosses, Hinata's ultimate decoys before the ball travels to Sakusa or Bokuto for a ear-shattering spike. It's after a particularly powerful straight that leaves Bokuto's hands throbbing red that he bellows out a cheer before being tackled by a laughing Hinata, the orange head's momentum sending them tumbling back. Bokuto is laughing too, feeling even lighter when Miya rubs his back in congratulations with a smile instead of his usual smirk. Even Sasuka steps close enough to offer Bokuto a clipped "Nice kill", and the silver-head preens under the praise. 

They leave much later than Bokuto expected, at a few minutes before midnight, and Hinata invites Bokuto to dinner with them afterwards. Bokuto declines, consoling him with a promise of next time, because he has a game in Nagoya tomorrow afternoon. It's strange, out of the four of them, he's the only one still in college with Hinata traveling to Brazil after high school and Miya and Sasuka dropping college once they began playing for the Jackals. Maybe it's what Bokuto would've done too, except just the thought of his mother discovering he dropped out of college gives him heart palpitations. 

By the time Bokuto returns home, clicking the key into the creaky door and pushing it open, it's nearly two a.m. He's not surprised to find the lights still on, and Kuroo and Oikawa hunched over the table, one immersed in a textbook and the other a tape of their opponent's in a few hours. 

"Hey." Bokuto greets, dropping his duffel bag and plopping down in a chair next to the brunette setter. 

Kuroo grins at him. "Practice run late?" He asks, shoving a brown paper bag that smells like grease, butter, and carbs. It's absolutely divine, and Bokuto almost cries when he bites into a piece of buttered toast. 

"This is so good," He moans nodding his head. "Where does Kenma work again?"

"New place on 6th. It's called the Eight 11 place-" 

Oikawa pushes back his headphones. "Yeah, and they have the sexiest outfits ever. You should've seen Kuroo's face when Kenma walked out." Oikawa teases with a smirk. "He was definitely thinking of seven ways to fuck blondie."

"Eight, actually." Kuroo shoots him his infamous Cheshire-cat grin. "We'll take you there sometime, Bo."

Oikawa adds in, "Yeah, who knows. Maybe you'll find the love of your life there." He exchanges a sly glance with Kuroo, a hidden secret not meant for three. 

Bokuto just hums. He really doubts it, but he's also well aware how much his friends enjoy setting him up, especially with Bokuto practically being the only single one amongst them. It's not like he completely ignored anything hinting at romance though. He's had a few flings, and way more than a few one-night stands that often resulted in a sleep-deprived Oikawa and a pissed off Kuroo banging on his door at 4 in the morning, yelling something about drowning him in muriatic acid or something. 

"Oikawa, shouldn't you go to bed?" Bokuto urges. He shoves some fries towards his two friends, smiling when they scarf it down. 

Oikawa pauses midway to shoot him a glare. "What are you my mom?"

"Ah. The teenage angst makes a comeback." Kuroo mutters under his breath, stealing another one of Bokuto's fries.

It's now Kuroo's turn to receive a harsh look from their setter, and if looks could kill, the two would be six feet under. 

"C'mon Oikawa. You'll play better when you're well rested." 

"Plus, you know how much sexier you look when you get a full four hours of sleep."

"I always look sexy." Oikawa snaps at them, and his growing irritation is a sign to the two that he's already exhausted. "I don't know what you Neanderthals are talking about." 

With some gentle coaxing, they manage to lure Oikawa into bed before Kuroo is wishing Bokuto goodnight as well, flipping off the kitchen lights, and shrugging off his shirt for bed. 

"Night, Bo." 

"Goodnight, bro!" Bokuto animatedly waves to his best friend, and he waits until he hears the soft click of a lock before pulling out his laptop and clicking on a website in his "Recently Visited" tab. 

The familiar black and blue page of Volleyball Monthly fills his screen, and Bokuto is navigating through the page like the back of his hand. _News. Most Popular. Second Link._

_A Glimpse Into Volleyball's Newest Star: Bokuto Koutarou._

The article is beautifully written, even Bokuto can discern that from the simple, but elegant writing and intricate interview questions. Akaashi portrays him like some celestial wonder, showcasing the best parts of himself he never even knew existed, and if Bokuto was just a normal fan reading the interview, he would've thought Bokuto Koutarou was something untouchable and worthy... except Bokuto is not just an average fan, and he knows the real him is simply just a loud, childish klutz who more often than not ties down his team. 

Still, Akaashi's work leaves him in jaw-hanging awe, and apparently he's not the only one. He scrolls down to the comments, ignoring the ones about himself ( though one vividly describing a rather intense fantasy that involves a naked Bokuto and a king bed makes him laugh) and instead focusing on the comments about Akaashi and his writing. It fills him with an indescribable sense of pride for some reason, and, he might be a little biased, but perhaps his favorite comment was one that read "Hey, hey, hey! This article is so well-written. Bokuto must've been lucky to be interviewed by a writer this talented! I really love your work!". 

Okay, so sue him. He practically ran over Oikawa to open his laptop and read the article when it first came out, and the talent was so evidently clear in the work that Bokuto just had to leave a comment. He wasn't expecting anything back in return, perfectly content to be another faceless comment amongst thousands of others. So, when he pulled up the page a few days ago to discover another comment beneath his, he was...well, a bit shocked. 

_Akaashi Keiji: Thank you._

Two words. Two fucking words, and Bokuto nearly squeals like a child, spending the next few nights just lying awake and staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how _Akaashi Keiji_ read _his_ comment. 

Bokuto continues scrolling, an unconscious grin tugging on his lips whenever he passes another comment praising Akaashi's work, and he makes sure to take the time to like each one of those. By the time he's finished, he rubs his eyes that now ache from staring at the harsh glare of the screen for so long, and tugs off his t-shirt before crashing into the unmade bed.   
  


———- 

Bokuto wakes up to Oikawa shaking him frantically, mouth molding words Bokuto can’t yet hear. 

“Wake up!” Oikawa slaps him, and Bokuto blinks. “We’re late!”

Fuck. That has him scrambling out of bed, rushing past Kuroo who has one leg in a pair of sweatpants and the other in his boxers as he screams about how terrible elevated cortisol levels are for you. Ignoring the fact that he just saw his friend’s dick, Bokuto quickly brushes his teeth and haphazardly rubs on some deodorant. Then, Oikawa is barging in with a sizzling skillet and shoving a piece of toast in Bokuto’s mouth before rushing off to do the same to Kuroo. 

They manage to leave the house in the next five minutes, a jumbled mess of backwards shirts and unzipped luggage and desperate shouts that explain why their neighbors absolutely despise them. Sprinting through campus, Bokuto is thankful it’s mostly empty at 6 am on a Friday morning. The only people are an occasional jogger and a hungover college student, but they’re already familiar with the three boys and this routine. One of them, an elderly woman with a terrifying chihuahua, even waves at them, and Bokuto waves back before tripping over a rock and face-planting into the sidewalk. 

The plane is still there when they arrive, and Bokuto releases a breath of relief. He knows realistically, Coach would never leave without three of his starting players, but that doesn’t save them from the withering glare they receive when they board the plane. If Satan had a child, it would definitely be Coach Yamji.

”Sorry Coach, Kuroo had severe diarrhea,” Oikawa mumbles weakly in explanation. 

“Hey-“ Kuroo’s complaint is cut off by a sudden jab from Oikawa, and the setter looks pleadingly at Bokuto for back up.

“Uh, right.” Bokuto stutters. “Really bad diarrhea. Like huge shits that-“ 

“I know you three woke up late again.” Coach interrupts as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Now why don’t you quit yapping and actually go get some rest? You all look awful.” 

They trudge to their seats, Oikawa grumbling, “I thought you said four hours makes me sexy.” 

“You look great!”

”You still look like shit.” 

Bokuto and Kuroo say at the same time before glancing at each other in surprise. If what transpired wasn’t peak bromance, Bokuto didn’t know what was, and they barely have time to settle into their seats before the plane rumbles to life and takes off.   
  
Tokyo University’s Men’s Volleyball team reaches their destination, a bustling port city infamous for its gambling parlors and entertainment district, an hour later. Nagoya University ranks in the top ten nationally almost every year, not as terrifying as Kyoto University, but still a formidable opponent. 

Which is exactly how they find themselves leading 14-10 towards the end of the fifth match. The momentum leans in their favor, of course it would, when you consider Tokyo’s starting line up. 

Bokuto pants with exhaustion. They all are. Five intense back-to-back games with the weight of the match and thousands of heavy gazes rest on his shoulders. It should burden him down, and maybe, in high school, he felt like drowning under the pressure that comes with this fame, but now he can at least somewhat manage it. 

"Bokuto!" Oikawa’s frantic shout drags something feral inside of Bokuto. They’re so close to victory, the taste almost on his tongue, Bokuto just needs to push a bit more, a bit further.

The setter’s perfect toss spirals higher and higher, and Bokuto’s legs move on instinct now, tensing before catapulting him into a flying jump, powerful and natural.

He finds his location immediately- a small spot tethering just inside the ten feet line, almost impossible for even the best of liberos to save and completely insane. Grinning, Bokuto swings his arms back, only to come face to face with a wall of towering defenders that could stop their momentum. 

He soars higher. 

The ball meets the palm of his outstretched hand perfectly, and suddenly, the world fades away until it’s just Bokuto and the ball, a lingering moment of serenity that feels otherworldly, only offered at the peak. It’s addicting and reminds Bokuto why he dedicates the rest of his life to this game. 

Flexible wrists twist at an unnatural angle, partly through gift, partly through practice, and the ball whizzes through the wall, breaking the row of defenders as it flies towards its target. Bokuto’s aim is flawless. The ball strikes his desired spot with a reverberating bang that sends a wave of awed silence falling over the crowd.   
  
A second of pure quietness, nothing but the echo of his heartbeat in his ears. 

Then, the silence shatters as the crowd roars his name, “Bokuto! Bokuto! Bokuto!”. Bokuto blossoms under the praise, under the adoration, under the spotlight. 

Thousands of miles away, sea green eyes gape at him through a tv screen. _A natural born star._

Oikawa is the first to reach the ace, tackling him until they go stumbling onto the floor, laughing, breathing, smiling together. Then, Kuroo is on top of them, followed by the rest of their team. It’s hot and sweaty, and Bokuto thinks he might suffocate, but he loves this part too, cherishing one of the last memories before everything ends like all good things do. 

But today, today they’re the protagonists of the world, and for some reason, familiar green eyes come to mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me - Finals
> 
> My brain - Thirsty volleyball boys
> 
> Me- ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Bokuto feels great. 

There’s nothing like the adrenaline of a game that pumps through your body for the next few hours, and, surrounded by his team who are just as buzzed from their win, Bokuto rides this slow high of victory. The lightness might also have to do with the fact that they’re all a few shots in, which sort of raises the question of how they’re getting home tonight with no officially designated mom friend, but it’s the sort of logic that escapes your head when you’re on top of the world. 

“Man,” Oikawa raises his glass and stares at the brown liquid in wonder. “Tequila is so great.” 

Bokuto nods eagerly in agreement before frowning. He works his jaw, all sharp angles and strong bones, before running a hand across it and pouting. “I can’t feel my tongue.” 

“When in doubt,” Oikawa says as he leans over and pours the ace another shot until the brown liquid sloshes past the rim. “Pour some more.”

Suddenly, the the glass is snatched from his fingers vanishes, and Bokuto frowns at the empty space, confused. 

A voice chides above him, “I think that’s enough, Bo.” The ace tilts his head up to meet Kuroo’s smirking face.

“Kuroo,” he whines. “You are such a buzzkill.” 

“Such a buzzkill.” Oikawa echoes in agreement. 

“That’s not what your mom said last night.” The raven-head fires back with a lecherous grin. Oikawa scrunches his nose, and Bokuto fist bumps him with an awed _bro._

“Didn’t know my mom was rich, blonde gamer boy." Oikawa grumbles. 

"You know what? Fuck you, Tooru." 

“No thank you. Ugly people really aren’t my type.” 

“Hey!” Bokuto huffs, words slightly slurred. “Kuroo is not ugly. Look at his ass. This is the ass of a real man.” 

Kuroo smirks. “What does that make Toruu then?”

He’s just barely gotten the words out when Oikawa lunges across the table, screaming bloody murder. Bokuto scrambles back, making sure to grab his glass before it gets broken in all of the commotion, drowns it, and then pries his two best friends apart easier than he would have thought. He sighs in relief, at least now Captain wouldn’t yell- 

“What the fuck are you three doing?” 

Internally, Bokuto cries on the inside. Externally, he slips on a brave face, reminding himself the captain was human (though it was very easy to forget sometimes given the way the man instilled fear like some demonic spawn). 

“Hi, Captain.” The ace mumbles, sending a nervous wave in his direction. He’s hoping his sudden compliance will soften the blow. 

It does not.

The Captain barks. “How many times have I told you guys no fighting in public spaces?” He sighs before rubbing his face tiredly. “Do you know how many places we’re banned from because of you three? Practically all of them!”

Kuroo opens his mouth to protest, but the Captain continues on. “And you two,” he sends a shriveling glare to Oikawa and Kuroo, still a jumbled mess of limbs. “I want you fifteen extra laps from you tomorrow morning

Bokuto brightens. Sure, he feels absolutely _awful_ about the fate of his best friends, but Captain Meian seems to have forgotten about him. He’s so close, he can almost taste the sweet flavor of victory- 

“Bokuto, give me ten tomorrow as well.”   
  
He whines, and they spend the next fifteen minutes sinking into their seats as Meian scolds them with the vocabulary that would put even the most experienced of sailors to shame. 

“Good going guys.” Tooru mutters under his breath. The entire room stares at them, and Bokuto’s not sure if anything can destroy a 21 year-old’s dignity more than getting publicly chastised like a misbehaved child. 

“Shut up, Tooru. Half of this is your fault.”

”Me?” Oikawa asks incredulously, and Bokuto nervously glances between his two friends. “I’m not-“

”Uh, guys?” Bokuto hesitantly draws out. 

The two snap their heads to glare at him. 

“Maybe we should order?” He offers, and immediately Oikawa lightens. Bokuto sighs in relief.

“Tequila!-“ 

“Absolutely not, Oikawa.” Kuroo strikes. The brown-eyed setter pouts adorably.

“Wait until I call Iwa-Chan,” Oikawa threatens, and perhaps it would’ve been scary if Oikawa could actually sit up right, but instead he wobbles dangerously side to side. “You are soooo dead.”   
  
Oikawa angrily whips out his phone and is just about to unlock it when the screen catches his attention. Shoving the device into Bokuto’s face, the pretty setter corners him. “Bokuto.” 

“Uh,”- hiccup-“ yes?” 

“Look how pretty Iwa-Chan is.” Oikawa declares. Behind him, Bokuto can vaguely hear Kuroo placing his order with their waiter. Why does that voice sound _so_ familiar? 

Shrugging it off because Oikawa is demanding an answer, Bokuto squints at the screen, vision slightly blurry from the drinks. Oikawa is right. Bokuto wouldn’t call Iwaizumi “pretty” per say (a certain green-eyed boy flashes through his mind), but Iwaizumi was definitely attractive with strong features and a built frame. 

“He’s hot.” Bokuto admits, and Oikawa smirks. “But Akaashi is hotter.” 

“I appreciate the compliment Bokuto-san.” A beautifully deep voice retorts from behind him, a hint of laughter laced in. “But I am afraid I’m more interested in your order.”   
  
Bokuto slowly creeps around. _There’s no way. There’s no way. There’s no_ -

There’s way. Fuck. 

God, or life, or whatever higher being that exists, must really fucking hate Bokuto because he’s staring at Akaashi Keiji again, clad in a flattering, short uniform that reminds him of something from Hooter’s, and, really, clothes that tight should be illegal because there’s no way Bokuto is going to function with Akaashi looking like the epitome of sex on legs.   
  
“Uh...” He stammers out. Akaashi raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. Were his eyes always that piercing before?

Bokuto’s eyes dart away, and he can’t help it when his gaze wanders lower than it should until he’s gaping at Akaashi’s toned legs, looking like they go on for miles. When he brings his attention back up, he finds Akaashi staring at him. Shit. Caught red-handed. His cheeks burn before he dives into the table and buries his head underneath the menu.   
  
A gentle hand shakes his shoulder. “Bo, tell the nice man what you want.” Kuroo coos. 

“His hand in marriage.” Oikawa grumbles from across the table, and there’s a chorus of laughter from the rest of the team. Bokuto shoves his face further into the cool plastic of the menu. 

“Chifen anf friefs.” He reluctantly mumbles, voice muffled by the paper.   
  
“What?” 

“Chifen anf friefs,” he says louder this time. 

“Bokuto,” Kuroo sighs exasperatedly. “I can’t hear you. C’mon you know Akaashi is a busy man. He has other-“

At the mention of Akaashi, Bokuto immediately pops his head out, shouting. “Chicken and fries. Please!” 

He steals a quick glance at Akaashi, midnight curls, angelic features, and long legs that would look _absolutely_ divine over his shoulder, before blushing again and retreating to his safe spot. 

“Okay, I’ll be right out with it okay, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi scribbled onto the note pad, and Bokuto vaguely wonders if this is why Akaashi’s hands are always covered in ink.   
  
“Tankf fo.” His head is back in his arms, and his cheeks explode with bits of hotness. 

Kuroo rubs his back reassuringly. “There, there.” He comforts. Perhaps if Bokuto had raised his head, he could’ve seen the signature smirk and knowing glance Kuroo shared with Oikawa. 

“Can he still speak?” Oikawa asks, peering curiously over the edge of the menu and poking Bokuto’s head. “Akaashi’s extremely pretty. Poor Bo. I pity you, you know.”   
  
Bokuto releases a groan and pulls the menu tighter around his ears to block out Oikawa. Not helping at all. If he had to think about Akaashi and his nice ass, he would actually internally combust. Really, what business did the universe have making someone so damn pretty? 

“C’mon Bo.” Kuroo is urging him, trying to lure him out. “Don’t you want to make a move on Akaashi?”

He elbows the brunette next to him.

”Yeah!” Oikawa yelps. “...There’s, um, no way the great Bokuto Koutarou is afraid of flirting.”   
  
“Exactly!” Kuroo agrees. “I mean look at you!” 

Bokuto wails into his arms. 

“-Thick thighs. Hot face. Dump truck of an ass.” Kuroo lists on. 

Golden eyes peek up in interest.

“Don’t forget great back muscles!” Oikawa chirps in. “They’re a must need for good sex.” 

Bokuto raises his head fully and tucks the menu underneath his elbows. Oikawa and Kuroo share a grin. “So, you think I should make a move on Akaashi?” He asks hesitantly. 

Oikawa groans. “By god, yes of course Bokuto! You’re sexy, you’re sweet, and absolutely ripped. “ 

“Okay!” Bokuto declares happily. “I’m gonna do it!” 

Next to him Kuroo smirks. “Hot boy shit, baby.”

”Time to celebrate with more tequila!” Oikawa cheers, grabbing the glass bottle.   
  
“No!” Kuroo shouts, making a mad dash for the alcohol, but Oikawa tips it down straight from the source.

The ravenhead sighs, glancing between his two best friends, one intoxicated by alcohol, the other by infatuation, and wonders how long this night will be.

***** 

Unfortunately, Akaashi doesn’t return to serve them, or perhaps it’s actually a blessing because Bokuto needs time to gather his confidence and gaping at the pretty raven-haired will only leave his brain dazed and nonfunctional. Instead, a skinny, silver-haired man with a name tag reading “Suguwara :)” takes their order with carefully calculated glances. Suguwara’s not stupid. The volleyball team is mere step below the gods on campus, and perhaps the most famous amongst them are the trio in front of him- two drunk and one groaning, a complete mess compared to their glorified, larger-than-life personas. Suguwara’s heard enough idolized, slightly-obsessive gossip about the three to know exactly who they are. Still, it doesn’t prepare him for how good they look in real life. Photos are one thing, but really was it necessary to be so attractive in the flesh? He’s broken out of his thoughts when a startlingly deep voice calls out to him.

“Do you need help?” Bokuto squints at the name tag. “...Suguwara-san?”

Suguwara almost fumbles the plate in shock. 

“That’s sweet,” he murmurs absentmindedly, trying to remove a particularly heavy plate without toppling the rest. “But I think I got it, honey.”   
  
Blush explodes on the planes of Bokuto’s cheeks at the last word, and Suguwara forcefully bites his lip to hide his smirk. No fucking way Bokuto Koutorou is this bashful, and Suguwara distracts himself by busying himself with setting their dishes down.

“Thank you!” The silver-haired ace chirps before the rest of the team echoes back in response. 

“Your welcome.” He replies, and he’s just putting down the last plate when that same voice suddenly calls out. 

“Hey, uh, do you know where Akaashi is?” 

Suguwara raises his eyebrows. Akaashi? No honorific? He mentally tucks away the little tidbit of information, reminding himself to pry the truth out of Akaashi later. Someone’s caught the ace’s attention, and Suguwara isn’t that surprised it’s Akaashi with his startling beauty and quiet brilliance. Now that he thinks about, he does recall Akaashi mentioning something about an article over Bokuto. 

“I’m sorry,” he informs with a bright smile. This mask of innocence gives him the perfect cover to side eye Bokuto. He trails his eyes down Bokuto’s gleaming golden eyes and handsome features before admiring the captain’s almost god-like body, all shifting muscle and sinew. Suguwara hums happily in his head. Akaashi had such good taste in men. “Akaashi had to serve another table tonight since they specifically requested him. I’ll be your waiter tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” 

The attractive raven-haired one-Kuroo- reassures him. “Nah man. We’re thankful for everything. You’re doing great.” 

Suguwara smiles politely at them before walking away, a slight skip in his step because Akaashi had no idea what was coming. Oh yes, Sugawara could be quite terrifying when he wanted to.   
  


**** 

It’s almost past 2 a.m. when Sugawara gets the chance to speak with Akaashi. The bar is nearly empty, most of its patrons returning home for the night exhausted. It’s strangely quiet, and Sugawara leans back against the steel countertop as he watches Akaashi clip off the order tickets.   
  
“Soo,” he drawls out, trying his best to sound inconspicuous. “I saw Bokuto Koutarou today at the bar.” 

Akaashi pauses for a brief second, and when he answers Sugawara back, his voice is calm and impassive as always, not giving the other waiter an inch into what the dark-haired boy was thinking. “That’s nice. I hope he was a good customer.” 

“He was. I thought you might know him from your interview together.” 

Akaashi shakes his head, back still towards him. “It was just an interview, Sugawara- san. I haven’t spoken to him since.” 

Akaashi might be good at hiding his feelings, but Sugawara is good at reading them. It’s a constant game they play of cat and mouse.

“Oh, I see.” Sugawara notes. He pauses, as if he’s dropped the subject, and throws out casually, “He’s actually really hot, probably the hottest of the three in my opinion.”

“I never noticed.” 

Lies. Akaashi knows it the minute the words leave his mouth because there’s absolutely no way any normal person could miss Bokuto’s good looks. Automatically, his traitorous mind wanders back to that one night at the party- dangerous golden eyes, wicked smirk, and strong, hard muscles that ripple underneath his fingers with every touch. His cheeks burn.   
  
“Oh?” Sugawara mocks. “Then, I hope you won’t mind if I happen to ask for his number? I’ve also heard he’s pretty good at fucking, too.” 

Akaashi frowns. “I hope everything goes successfully. He would be silly to turn you down.” 

Suguwara sighs. Akaashi’s better at hiding than he thought, so he decides to just hit him with the truth.

“Bokuto was looking for you.” 

“ _What_?” For a split second, Akaashi’s impassive mask drops, and Suguwara revels in the surprise and hope that flit through his friend’s face. _Bingo_. 

He grins victoriously. “When I went to go serve them, he asked me if I knew where you were.” 

Akaashi manages to pull his face into a blank canvas a second later, despite the fact that his stomach tumbles with nerves. "I'm sure he just wanted to talk about the article." He murmurs, and he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince Suguwara or himself more. 

Behind him, Suguwara smiles in satisfaction, his predictions quickly proving true. Oh, _yes._ He really was exceptionally gifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for sm for reading! Sorry for the sporadic and inconsistent updates!! I’m planning to work on this story once I finish my other one, but I’m sort of at a writer’s block for my main one so here we are: 2.5k stuff of word vomit✨


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